


Epilogue- Present

by Woodentrain



Series: Finding the Stars [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Epilogue, Happy Ending, M/M, Oliver's POV, Oliver's family - Freeform, POV Oliver, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, back to bergamo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-15 02:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15403089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woodentrain/pseuds/Woodentrain
Summary: The epilogue to their story- 35 years later...A bus trip, somewhere in northern Italy in Summer 2018





	Epilogue- Present

**Author's Note:**

> As promised! 
> 
> This is the epilogue to my Oliver's POV fic, [Finding the Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13109943/chapters/29993505). However it would happily serve as a stand-along one-shot happy ending following the movie canon. 
> 
> It was supposed to be a short little thing... does it count as an epilogue when it's almost 7000 words long? I don't know. 
> 
> This takes the part of the story that it broke my heart to write, and makes it right. I wanted that bus trip to be happy, but however hard I tried I just couldn't bring myself to delete the bit where Oliver felt sad because he wanted to be with someone whose hand he could hold on a bus. 
> 
> I've posted it as a separate work because FTS was only intended to go up until that final phone call. So in a way I sort of wanted to keep this separate. I wanted the end FTS of it to be the end, without another chapter straight away, if that makes sense? Not that I have any objections to people reading this straight after. I don't think I'm making sense here, but it makes sense in my head.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [natures-cunning-ways](https://natures-cunning-ways.tumblr.com/).  
> 

Oliver closes his eyes and takes a moment to appreciate his own happiness.  This moment, this day this whole summer is a gift.

Oliver’s mother used to say that things always come full circle, and that certainly seems to be true of today.  Two young men sit side-by-side on the bus as it winds its way higher into the hills, teasing and smiling about something only they understand.  Such is the relationship between brothers, two people who have known each other their whole lives, and Oliver’s sons are no exception.

They’d say they aren’t _young men_ at all, that they’re practically middle aged now, but Oliver knows better.  They’re still hopelessly, obliviously young. 

Still.  They’re probably being a little too boisterous to be polite.  Oliver leans forward.  “Quit messing around, you two.  You’re too old for this.”  But he’s not really annoyed, and they know it.  It’s taken them a long time to get here, after a difficult few years, and it makes Oliver happier than he ever imagined he’d be.  Happier than he ever thought he could deserve. 

The separation from Emma was hard on all of them.  Even as adults the boys found it hard to deal with the fact that their parents had grown apart.  But with the boys flying the nest, it had quickly become apparent that that’s exactly what had happened.  

***

Something had started with Oliver’s visit to Italy fifteen years ago, a visit which sparked an ongoing and steadily deepening friendship between himself and Elio- though with never even a hint of anything more.  Something becoming the friendship he and Elio could, perhaps, have always had, if their relationship had never become anything other than platonic.

Before long there was no doubt that he and Elio, despite living far apart, were best friends.  They emailed a lot and talked on the phone occasionally and met up when they happened to be in the same place, which wasn’t often.  They understood each other on a level that never failed to surprise Oliver.  At first they hesitated to talk about their relationships, but eventually they did.  Elio slowly got to know about Oliver’s wife, and Oliver got to know about the man Elio started dating, and eventually moved in with, before things ended unexpectedly after three years.

And that was when Oliver knew.  Because Oliver had friends who had gone through divorces and he knew that if Elio had been any other close friend, he would have been there for him after his breakup.  Maybe he’d have taken him out and gotten him drunk and they would have lamented the unfairness of it all and the incomprehensible ways of women- or in this case, men.  Oliver would have been sympathetic and encouraged him to get back out there and enjoy his freedom.  He'd probably have been eager to set Elio up with one of his single friends. 

But Elio’s newly single status had made him feel things he wasn’t supposed to feel about a friend.  He wasn’t supposed to feel a sick sense of relief or a strange spark of hope somewhere deep inside himself.   So Oliver had expressed his sympathy but kept his distance. 

Friends, and nothing more.  But Oliver’s marriage had been- not _failing_ , but… fizzling out, perhaps?- for years.  

And then.  One rainy Monday morning in March, over nine years ago now, Oliver woke up and knew something had to change.  The fact that his marriage of 25 years was perfectly satisfactory, combined with uncertainty about the future and what would happen if something changed, had kept him stuck here for far too long.  And yes, he was content.  But suddenly that wasn’t enough.  Nor was _satisfactory_.  And uncertainty about the future was no less daunting, but he found that he didn’t much care.  He knew that he had to do something, and do it now- before the inertia had a chance to cast its spell on him again.  So he simply packed a bag and walked out of his life.  

Emma has been understandably shocked when he’d appeared at breakfast and announced that he was leaving.  Two suitcases already stood packed in the hall and his car keys were in his hand.  

“Oliver, where are you going?  Have I missed something?”

“Em, I’m sorry.  I just- I have to go.”  Because what else was there to say?

“Oh, god.  Is this what I think it is?” 

Oliver just nodded.

“We’re not even going to talk about it?” 

A sigh.  “Not right now.  I just have to- look.  Don’t try to tell me you’re happy with this.”  An expansive gesture indicated what he meant.   _Us, this life, everything_.  “Don’t try to tell me this is working for you.”

“I don’t know, Oliver.  I haven’t really thought about it.  Clearly it’s not working for _you_ -“

Oliver interrupted.  “Emma, I should just go.  We both need some time.  We’ll talk about this, but not now.  I have something I have to do.”

Understanding dawned on her.  “You mean someone you have to see?  Are you cheating?  Oh, fuck, Oliver, you’re cheating on me?”

“Emma, no.  I’m not.  I haven’t.  It’s… god, this is such a cliché but- it’s complicated.”

“I’m too shocked to know how to deal with this right now.  I feel like I want to cry but I’m just too- I just don’t-  if you’re going, you should just go.”  Then, softer, “Do you have somewhere to go?”

Oliver almost laughed- not at the fact that she still cared enough to want to know that he had somewhere to go, but at the insanity of the fact that he didn’t.  “No.  Not really.”

“I believe you when you say you haven’t cheated, but- is there someone else?” 

Oliver wasn’t sure what to say.  The truth would be the best answer, but he wasn’t sure what the truth was.  He settled for the closest thing.  “I don’t know.  I think that’s what I have to find out.”

“Just go, then.  Please.  And don’t think because I’m not yelling and crying that I’m not mad and I’m not hurt.  And you have to tell the boys.  Today.”

So Oliver left.

***

He drove for an hour then stopped to get some breakfast and to make some phone calls.  His boss were, at least, understanding and willing to grant him some personal leave.  But then he had to call the boys.  His mom.   None of those calls went well.

And finally, Elio.

Elio’s phone went to voicemail and Oliver left a slightly muddled message.  “Hi, it’s, um, it’s me.  It’s Oliver.  I was just, um… can we talk?  I wanted to talk to you.  Will you be home this evening?  Let me know.  Okay.  I’ll talk to you later.  Hopefully.  Let me know.  Bye.”

Elio’s text message came at lunch time.  “I’ll be home.  Call whenever you want.  Hope everything’s okay?”

Oliver didn’t reply.  He drove into the Toronto suburb where Elio lived just as night was falling.

“Oliver?  What- what are you doing here?”  Elio stood barefoot, still in his shirt and suit pants from work.

“I left.”

“You… left?”  Elio looked confused at first, then understanding dawned.  “Oh.  Emma.”

“And I- I just- I wanted to see you.”  He didn’t ask the question, because he knew he didn’t need to.  _Do you want to…?_

Elio’s hand scrubbed nervously at his hair and his eyes were wide as he took in the meaning of this.  “God, Oliver.  I need some- some time.  I need to think about this.  Let’s, um- why don’t you come in?  Have you eaten?”  Oliver shook his head.  “I was just about to make dinner.”

Oliver followed him into the hallway, but had barely made it through the door when he stopped abruptly to avoid walking right into Elio who had suddenly turned around.

“Okay.  That’s enough time.  I’m done thinking.”  And he grabbed Oliver by his upper arms and kissed him, hot and desperate, swallowing the groan that escaped Oliver’s mouth when he felt Elio’s tongue pushing between his lips.  One hand released Oliver’s arm to reach around him and slam the still-open front door, then his fingers went straight to the buttons of Oliver’s shirt.  He stepped backwards, pulling Oliver down the hallway. 

When they reached the bottom of the stairs Elio paused and stared into Oliver’s eyes as he untucked his shirt and ran his hands up Oliver’s chest.  Breathless, panting a little already.  When his eyes widened in question Oliver nodded.

There were no words as Elio practically dragged him upstairs or as Oliver’s clothes were thrown to the floor, all mixed up with Elio’s, or as they fell to Elio’s bed, kissing and kissing and kissing some more.  Oliver wanted to taste every inch of him, to see if it was all the same as he remembered.  Because he remembered everything, still, and it was thrilling yet bittersweet to discover Elio anew and find that everything was just the same.  No words as he flipped Elio onto his back, and paused to just look, then to trace him with his fingertips and his mouth.  No words as he took Elio into his mouth and marvelled at how much he’d missed doing this thing with this person.

There were sounds of kisses and soft moans and skin on skin but no words, still, as Oliver moved back up Elio’s body to find his mouth again.  No words until Elio broke the silence, murmuring as his teeth grazed Oliver’s ear.  “What do you want?”

The tables were thoroughly turned this time around.  Oliver had become the vulnerable one, because he was the one who had turned up at Elio’s door having left the rest of his life behind.  He was the one lacking in experience, too- it had been half a lifetime since he’d touched another man in this way.  God, he was practically a virgin. 

_I want this to never end.  You.  Forever.  Always._

What he wanted was to relinquish all control, all responsibility.  He wanted to surrender to the need to be himself and have what he really wanted, without worrying about the consequences.  Suddenly Oliver was 24 again, asking Elio for something he’d never done back then and never thought he’d do again until now.  _Fuck me, Elio._

He felt Elio nod.  Hesitantly, as though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer, he asked, “Have you, um, done this recently?”

“No.  Not since you.  Only ever with you.”

Elio pulled back to look at him and ran his fingers roughly through Oliver’s hair.  “Okay.  Let’s take it slow.”  Then, teasing just as he used to do, “After all, you’re not as young as you used to be.”

This time it was familiar but still new.  Elio did things… differently, for want of a better word, his years of experience plain. 

Just before it happened, Oliver called a halt.  “Wait a minute.  Wait, wait, wait.”

“What’s wrong?  You want to stop?  We can stop.”

A hand to the back of Elio’s head, half in his hair and half on his neck, pulled Elio up so that their faces were level. 

Oliver had waited for most of his life to say it.  Not having done so when he had the chance was a regret he’d always carried with him, and he was done with it.  It was something he could fix _right now,_ this very moment.  He didn’t want to wait until afterwards, because talking about the things that mattered had somehow gotten lost, all those years ago, in passion and need and the heat of their bodies.

And the real reason he came here wasn’t to spend a night in Elio’s bed.  If Elio didn’t want to hear what he had to say, then it was best to stop this before it went any further.

Still, the words are soft and a little tentative.

“I love you, Elio.”

Time stood still for a moment as Elio looked stunned but didn’t react. 

Oliver watched as the smile washed over Elio’s face.  It started, strangely, in his eyes before working its way down to his mouth.  The smile that Oliver first fell for, decades ago, the rare and precious smile that hardly ever let itself be seen. 

Oliver was too busy watching Elio’s mouth to notice the wetness in his eyes.  “I love you, too.  Always have.”

And then, as Oliver grabbed a tissue from a box by the bed and wiped away the tears, Elio sniffled and laughed.  “Oh, I can’t believe you did that.  Look, you made me cry.  I cried the last time we had sex.  I don’t want to make a habit of it.” 

“So stop crying and kiss me again.”

The words echoed in his head.  _I love you, too_.  Oliver knew the words were true, hadn’t needed to hear them spoken to know the truth of them.  Yet still, unexpectedly, a weight was lifted from him and he felt a part of himself, suddenly impossibly light, float away.

***

“That lasted a lot longer than I remember.”  One of Oliver’s hands was teasing out tangles from Elio’s slightly sweat-damp curls.

Elio swiped at Oliver’s other hand which was resting on his thigh.  “Cut me some slack.  I was seventeen.  What did you expect?”

Oliver laughed.  “You were.  Seventeen and insatiably horny.  I hope you’ve grown out of it, because I’ll be fifty next year.  I’m an old man.  You’re only getting it once.  Maybe twice if we’re really, _really_ lucky.”  Elio smiled at him, that mischievous, challenging smile Oliver remembered so vividly from the moment when they had stood in the freezing water at Elio’s spot, and Elio had looked into his eyes for the first time.

 A thought popped into Oliver’s head.  “Hey- can I ask you something?”

“That sounds ominous.”

“It’s really not.  When’s your birthday?”

Elio looked puzzled.  “What?  November.  November tenth.  Why?  You want to send me a card this year?”

“I just never knew when it was.  It killed me that I didn’t know.”

“You could’ve asked my dad.”

“It would have been weird.”  Oliver didn’t know how to explain that not knowing had felt like a failure on his part, something he could only put right by asking Elio himself.

“Mmm.  I guess, maybe.”

They fell asleep for a while, wrapped up in each other’s arms, for the first time in 25 years.  Oliver was exhausted from driving all day, but he was woken by hunger just before midnight.  He fumbled blindly in the darkness, looking for his phone in the pocket of his pants which were discarded somewhere on the floor.

Elio groaned sleepily.  “Everything okay?”

“Oh, sorry.  Did I wake you?  Just looking for my phone.”

Elio flicked a switch by the bed and a lamp lit the room in a yellow glow.  “I was only half asleep anyway.  My brain won’t switch off.”

Oliver had found his phone.  Missed calls from his eldest son and from Emma’s sister.  17 unread messages, and 4 voicemails.  They’d have to wait til morning.  “Where’s your bathroom?”

“I’m sorry, I’m a terrible host.  It’s right across the hall.  Hey- are you hungry?  I’m starving.  Haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“Oh, god, yes.”

“Hungry enough for Chinese food?  I know a place that’ll still be open.  I can call and order now.”

“Please.”

“Anything you don’t like?”

“No, not really. I’m not fussy.”

Oliver went to his car to retrieve a suitcase so that he could find a toothbrush and some sweatpants, and they talked about small, unimportant things while they ate.  Elio flourished his chopsticks, while Oliver, not wanting to make a fool of himself, opted for a fork.

As they were clearing up the dishes, Elio yawned.  “We should go get some sleep.  Or maybe something different.  What’s it going to be?  Are we going to be lucky tonight, or not?”

“Oh yes.  Lucky.  Definitely.  But maybe something a bit less strenuous for now?”

“I’m sure we can think of something.”  Elio licked his bottom lip and flashed his most wicked smile, so Oliver followed him back to the bedroom.

***

Oliver woke to the unfamiliar sensation of lips on his neck.  Elio must have felt him stir, because he whispered, “Sorry.  I didn't want to wake you.  But I have to go to work soon, and I didn't want you to wake up alone.”

“Oh.  Sure.  Thanks.”

Elio’s nose traced up to Oliver’s ear.  “You okay?”

Oliver chuckled as he rubbed his eyes.  “Me okay.  Better than okay.  Though I mean- shit.  I'm worried.  I'm asking myself what I've done, if I really woke up yesterday five hundred miles away and left everything behind and now I'm here.  It's surreal.”

“Are you regretting it?”

“No.  No way.  Though I'm worried about what happens next.  Where I go from here.”  Then, more tentative, “Where we go from here.”  Oliver was really worried about this, actually.  So far, everything seemed too easy and too good to be true.  There was no way things could be as straightforward as this.

“We?”

“I don't mean- I don't expect anything, Elio.  And I know it's something that wouldn’t happen straight away.  But, if you wanted to, then we could try-”

Elio interrupted, looking at Oliver incredulously.  “Of course I want to.  It's very sudden, and it’s a lot to take in, but I do.  I just don't know how we go about it.”

“Me neither.  But this is a place to start.”

“That’s true.  Do you have to leave now?  How long do you want to stay?”

“I need some time away from home.  To have some breathing space and work out what I’m going to do next.  And I should probably be doing that alone, taking time just for myself, but I really don’t want to.  So I’d love to stay for a while.  Maybe until the weekend, if that’s okay.  Until things calm down a little at home.  Unless that’s too long, of course.”

“Of course it’s okay.  Though I really do have to go to work.  I guess I could call and say something urgent came up, but…”

“No, it's okay.  Do you mind me staying here while you go to work?”

“Oliver.  It’s not like you’re a new puppy who can’t be left alone in the house.  Of course I don’t mind.  I can give you the spare key, so you can come and go, and I’ll make sure I’m not late home.  There’s not much here for lunch, but the grocery store’s not far away, or there’s a coffee shop-“

“Elio.  I’ll be fine.  Thank you.  I have a lot of phone calls to make and things to sort out.  Fuck.  I probably need to get myself a lawyer.  I'm going to have to file for divorce, aren’t I?  My dad will be turning in his grave.”

Elio looked serious.  “Does that bother you?”

“No.  I mean, it's just a figure of speech.  Anyway- we had him cremated.”

Oliver met Elio's eyes, trying and failing to look serious as they both dissolved into giggles.  

***

While Elio was at work, Oliver spent a lot of time on the phone, talking to a lot of people who either didn’t want to speak to him (Emma, his sons) or who he didn’t want to speak to (his mother, his newly appointed lawyer).  He also tried to keep on top of his work.  And when he ran out of things to do, he read.  Elio had an unsurprisingly eclectic collection of books, and there was something satisfying about thumbing the pages he knew Elio had touched, and reading the words he knew Elio had loved. 

Oliver stayed until the weekend, then a little longer.  They went out to dinner on Saturday night, which Elio declared strange, because they’d never been on a date before.  And it was strange- strange and wonderful.

By Monday, Oliver had been staying at Elio’s place for a week.  Elio was strangely flippant when he brought it up over breakfast.  “Oliver- you know you can’t stay here forever.”

Elio seemed happy to have him around, so Oliver was a little surprised- though of course he knew he had to go back home before much longer.  “I know.  I should get out of your hair.  But I want to stay close for a few more days, if you don’t mind?  I’ll get a hotel.  I’m meeting the boys at the weekend, anyway, so I can’t stay around for much longer.”

Elio laughed.  “That’s not what I meant.  Of course you can stay _here_.  I meant that you literally can’t stay forever _in Canada_.  You don’t have a visa.”

Oliver couldn’t help but laugh too.

***

When he arrived back at the house he’d lived in with his wife and children for over fifteen years, Oliver didn’t know what to do.  Theoretically, legally, on paper, this was still his home.  He had a key to the front door, right there in his hand.  But he was pretty sure he’d forfeited the right to use it the moment he drove away.  Was it really not even two weeks ago?  It felt like another lifetime.

So he rang the doorbell.  Emma answered the door wordlessly, and they sat down awkwardly at opposite sides of the kitchen table. 

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s no point in being sorry now, Oliver.”

“I know, but-“

Emma didn’t let him finish.  “And a part of me knows that you’re right.  That this wasn’t really working.  That neither of us is- _was_ \- exactly happy.  But I wish we could have talked about it.  The way you went about it was wrong.”

“I know.  You’re right.  But I was scared that I’d change my mind and that we’d both end up living in this- this- I don’t know- this empty, blank marriage for another twenty-five years.  I don’t want that for either of us.”  Emma looks like she’s about to speak but he persists.  “I’m not trying to pretend that it wasn’t a selfish decision.  Because it was.  Absolutely.  But I know you’ll be happier too, in the end.  We both deserve more than what this has become.”

“Is that what this is to you?  All of this?”  She gestures around just like Oliver did on the day he left, to indicate _this, you and me, this house, this life we built together_.  “Empty and blank?”

Oliver rubbed his temples, trying to find the words.  “No.  Not in the way you think I mean.  But also yes, I suppose.  Empty in the way that we don’t enjoy each other’s company the way we used to.  We don’t talk the way we used to.  We don’t have much left in common.  Which leaves a certain… emptiness.”

“And you don’t think we can find a way to rekindle all of that together?  To fix this?  You think you can find something different to fill that blankness?”

Oliver paused for too long before speaking, and Emma spoke again before he had the chance.  “Oh, I get it.”  She laughs, but it’s bitter and brittle.  “So there _is_ someone else, isn’t there?  You’ve already found something to fill that emptiness.  Who is she?  I believe you when you say you hadn’t cheated, because _I know you_ , and I know you wouldn’t lie about something like that- but I know there’s someone else.  That’s where you’ve been, isn’t it?”

Oliver didn’t know how to explain it.  He had no idea what reaction he was likely to get.  But he knew that this was the time for the truth, and all of it, to finally come out.

“Em.  You remember Italy.”

“Yeah, of course.  It was one of the best vacations we ever had.  The boys had a great time, and…” her voice trailed away as she saw Oliver’s expression.  “Oh, god.  You and Italy.  The Italian girl?  That was 25 years ago.  You’re going to tell me you’re running off with your Italian girl from half a lifetime ago?  Fuck you.  You’ve wanted her for all this time?  Have you been in Italy this past week?”  Oliver didn’t get a chance to deny it, before Emma spat out, “You know what?  I don’t care.” 

There was a screech as her chair pushed back on the tiled floor.  Oliver grabbed her by the wrist.  Gentle but firm.  “Sit down, Em.  We have to talk about this.  You know we do.”

Emma collapsed back into the chair. 

“Emma.  Listen to me.  Listen.  I haven’t been to Italy this week.  And there’s no Italian girl.  There was never an Italian girl.”  He swallowed.  Here goes.  “It was a boy, Em.  Well, a man, now, but- well.  There’s no Italian girl.”

Emma just looked at him.  “Is this a joke?”

Oliver shook his head. 

“So you’re- you’re _gay_?  How did I not- oh fuck.  _Fuck_.  You must think I’m so stupid.  I am, aren’t I?  That’s what people are going to say, isn’t it?  Look at poor, _stupid_ Emma, married for 25 years and never knew her husband was gay all along.  How could she have been such an idiot?”

She was crying now, and Oliver felt awful.  Because he’d never wanted to hurt her, and honestly?  Even though those things weren’t true, people _would_ say them.  In a small town like this, people would gossip about both of them, mercilessly.

“No, Em, I’m not gay.  I like both.  I loved you and I wanted you and I’m so, so sorry.  I know it doesn’t help, but I am.”

“So… this Italian- _boy_ \- he lives here now?”

“His dad was American.  He’s lived in the States for most of his life.”

“And you’ve been in touch with him for how long?  How long, Oliver?”

“Emma.  It’s Elio.  You remember the Perlmans, who we stayed with?  He’s their son.”

“Elio?!  Your friend Elio?  Elio who you hang out with whenever he’s in town?  God, I must be even stupider than I thought.  Is this why you never brought him to dinner, all those times I suggested it?  Because you were sleeping with him?  You have been cheating, haven’t you?  You must think I’m so naïve for believing that you weren’t cheating.  And- I thought he was a child?  Their kid?  But you were- you were with him that summer.  As in- _with him_.”

Oliver nodded and spoke quietly, unable to meet her gaze.  “He was seventeen.”

“And you think that was okay?  You didn’t think it might have been better to _not sleep with_ the child of your hosts?  You have children of your own.  How would you have felt if someone had treated one of our boys like that?”

“I know _.  I know_.  Don’t think I didn’t consider it, because I really did.  But it happened and-“  Oliver threw up his hands.  “I don’t know what else to say.”

“All this time.”

There was no need for a yes or no answer.  “I’m sorry, Em.  I really am.  More than you could ever know.”

“Why did you marry me, then?”

“Because I loved you.  Because I thought we could have a good life together.  And we did.  But lately I feel like I’m just Oliver, the father whose children are pretty much grown and gone.  Oliver, the husband.  Oliver, the almost-old and increasingly boring professor.  Oliver, the son to a lonely, ailing parent.  And sometimes I’m just sick of it.  All of it.  Sometimes I just want to be Oliver the person.  Who’s allowed to want things besides just keeping other people happy.  Is that so much to ask?”

“What about the people who need those other Olivers?  Do they not matter anymore?”

“I’m still those things. I’m not going to stop being those.  I just need something else.”

Emma looked so small and resigned as she said, “But you don’t want to be Oliver the husband anymore.”

“Emma.  I haven’t been for a while.  Well, I am that on paper but it doesn’t feel like much more.  And you know it.  You don’t need me.”

“I’m just scared about what happens now.  About us, and the boys, and the house and…”

Oliver moves around the table and she lets him take her in his arms.  “I know.  Me too.  I know.”

***

He and Elio saw each other infrequently over the next few months.  Oliver felt that he had to stay close to his boys, to try and mend their abruptly broken relationship. 

But in July, they went to Italy.  Three weeks.  Oliver was excited but nervous for weeks beforehand.  Stolen weekends here and there were one thing, but how would things be between them when they were together for three whole weeks, back in the place where it all started so long ago?

When they got to the house, Elio immediately took Oliver to their bedroom, though not for the reason Oliver first thought.  He went straight to the closet and pulled out Oliver’s shirt from so many summers ago.  “Do you think it’s crazy that I still have your shirt?”

“Hardly.  I still have yours, after all.”

“You do?  But I never gave you a shirt.  My shirts wouldn’t have fitted you anyway.”

“I know.  I took it without asking.  A blue and white striped t-shirt.  I should have asked.  I don’t know why I didn’t.”

“That t-shirt?”  Elio laughed.  “I wondered where it went.  I thought I’d lost it.  I never once thought you might have taken it.  I would have let you, you know, if you’d asked.”

“I know.  I wouldn’t have taken it if I’d thought you might mind.  I just- oh, I don’t know.  It’s stupid”

“No, it’s not.  I get it.”  Elio took Oliver’s face between his hands and kissed him.

***

On their first night in Italy Oliver woke in the darkness to find Elio gone.  The bathroom door was open and he wasn’t there, so Oliver padded out barefoot onto their balcony overlooking the driveway.  No sign of him there, either, but the doors to the balcony at the back of the house were open and he could hear a voice, faintly, from the garden.

He could dimly see Elio sitting on the ground, knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around them.

“So, dad.  It’s summer again, so I’m back.  Mom’s doing okay.  She still misses you.  I miss you.  So much.  I wish you could be here.  It’s still not the same here without you.”  Oliver knew he shouldn’t be listening, that this was a private moment, but he didn’t move.

“Hey, guess what?”  Elio laughed.  “You’ll never guess, actually.  Um.  So, Oliver’s here.  You know, he would’ve been so happy to see you too.  You’d have had so much to talk about.  Dad-“  Elio sounded choked up now, and Oliver had to strain to hear when he spoke again, low and quiet.  “Dad- he came back for me.  You know, I never thought he would.  I never thought I’d get to have this again.  I’m just-”  His voice cracked, and Oliver could hear him crying quietly. 

Oliver had to leave.  This wasn’t his to hear.  It was between Elio and the man who, Elio had told him, was the only person whose absence hurt him more than Oliver’s own. 

Oliver went back to bed, and although he tried to stay awake, he was asleep before Elio came back.

***

After Oliver ended his marriage, it took time for things to settle down and for him and Elio to organise a life together.  There were jobs to arrange, and a place to live to find, and Oliver’s boys to reconcile with.  It was almost a year and a half before they moved in together, in a house they’d chosen together about half an hour from the town where Oliver had lived with his wife.  Close enough for his work at the university, but far enough away that he wouldn’t run into Emma at the grocery store.

It took a long time.  But now, things are good.  Elio dozes on his shoulder, and as Oliver sits back in his seat he puts an arm around him and pulls him close, while the other hand reaches over and idly plays with his hair.

Everyone’s tired, really, and the reason for that sits across the aisle from the boys.  Oliver’s granddaughter sits next to her mother, smiling and pointing and babbling nonsense.  Lia has never been a good sleeper, and she’s teething now, which means that by night the old stone walls of the villa have echoed with her miserable cries.  Oliver and Elio have spent hours walking her around, trying to soothe her so that her long-suffering parents can get some rest. 

Elio isn’t a natural with children- far from it.  He’s had almost nothing to do with babies and Oliver found his initial wariness of Lia hilarious.  But in the end pretty much everyone likes babies, don’t they?  It’s programmed into human nature.  And this baby has a lot of Oliver in her, with her tiny versions of Oliver’s nose and Oliver’s smile.  

Annella says she looks a lot like baby Elio.  The same colouring, the same dark curls.  _“And the same crying!  Honestly, Oliver, we thought he’d never stop.  We were too exhausted to even think about having another.  It’s his own fault he’s an only child.  If he hadn’t cried constantly for almost two years, maybe he could have had a sibling.”_

The resemblance is unsurprising, really, because her parentage is similar- American father, Italian mother.  She brings a lot of comfort to Annella, who is always more lucid, more herself, with Lia around.  Annella considers her a more than acceptable substitute for the grandchildren Elio never provided.  Never wanted to, as Oliver discovered shortly after he and Elio found themselves together again.

They were talking about Oliver’s sons, first, and then- “You know… 43 isn’t really old for a man to have his first child.  If it’s something you wanted, we could think about it.  There are lots of options nowadays.”

Elio looked horrified.  “You want more kids?!  Oliver, it’s not something I- I mean I never- is this about the boys?  How they still hardly speak to you?  I don’t think another child, especially a child with me, is the answer.”

“No!  God, no, I’m done with that.  Or I thought I was.  What I mean is- I don’t want you to miss out on that if it’s something you wanted.“

But Elio, by that point, was doubled over with laughter.   Oliver just looked at him, stunned into silence.  Elio wiped his eyes then took Oliver’s hand and looked at him, serious now. 

“Oliver.  It makes me happier than you could ever know, to think that this is something you would consider for me, for us.  But no, it’s not something I want.  I’ve had… opportunities, times when children were something I thought about, or something that might have happened.  But not now.  I don’t feel like it’s something missing from my life.  Honestly.  And while you’re right that a lot of people have children in their forties, it’s not for me.  You and I, we’ve missed too much of life together to spend twenty years or more raising a child.  There are things I want for us that I don’t want to wait twenty more years to do.  I don’t want to wait until you’re in your seventies before we get a chance to be just the two of us.”

“As for your children?  I’d love for your boys to be a part of your life again, and I think it time they’ll come round.  Give it time.  It’s still new and fresh at the moment, but things will work out.  As long as you’re here for them, they’ll come back.” 

So.  No grandchildren for Annella, although this is just as good. 

It took several painful years for Oliver’s sons to come round.  Oliver was heartbroken by their refusal to be a part of his life, and there were times when he thought about breaking things off with Elio in an attempt to reconcile with them.  Elio had understood from the start that Oliver’s children would always come first.  They were angry with Oliver for leaving their mother, and it was four years before they forgave him enough to agree to meet Elio.  By that time they’d almost made their peace with the fact that while it was Oliver who packed his bags and left, their parents’ marriage had been faltering for a long time.  Emma met someone else and shocked everyone by marrying again.  It seemed rushed to Oliver, but they look like they’re happy and he hopes it will work out. 

Their first time the boys came to Italy was a turning point.  Five years ago now.  There was something magical about Elio and Oliver back in the place where they’d fallen in love. 

Oliver’s eldest son noticed it.  “You love it here, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“I don’t think we’ve ever seen you so happy.”

“I’ve always been happy here.  Sometimes I think if it wasn’t for wanting to stay close to you two, Elio and I would move here.”

“You could, you know.  It’s pretty nice here.  We’d come visit.  A lot.”

They haven’t moved, but it’s something he and Elio discuss more and more often.  Oliver thinks they’ll almost certainly move here when he retires, if not sooner.

The boys had stayed for just a week that first time, but in the years since they’re stayed for a month or more. 

Nobody expected Oliver’s son to fall in love with an Italian girl, but his preferences probably run in his genes.  She’s tall and slim with long, dark hair.  He met her during the first summer the boys spent in Italy, and after the second summer she went with him back to the states. 

Oliver wonders if they’ll ever marry.  Even today some would consider it a scandal that they have a child together, especially in a small, Catholic community, but Oliver’s in no position to judge, all things considered.  Not that he would, because how other people choose to live their lives and love one another is none of his business. 

He and Elio have spoken of marriage themselves, now that it’s something they could do, and they haven’t ruled it out.  But Elio says there’s no need, that it would mean nothing when they’re already practically the same person anyway.  Being apart for twenty-five years didn’t change what they were to each other, so a ceremony and a piece of paper certainly won’t make any difference.  Nevertheless, Oliver teases him.  _When are you going to make an honest man of me, Elio?  I’ll be 60 next year, and if we’re going to get married then I want to do it while I still have my youthful good looks!_

They’ll get to Bergamo soon, and while the rest of the family are staying in a modern hotel with a pool and air conditioning, Oliver has booked himself and Elio into the same room in the same little hotel in the town centre where they stayed 35 years ago.

When they get to their room Elio will call Oliver a sentimental old fool.  Oliver won’t care, because Elio will mean it affectionately, and besides- it’s true.  They’ll fall asleep after making love, without setting an alarm, and will be late for dinner with the others, arriving apologetic and flustered.

After dinner they’ll open the window of their hotel room wide.  Elio will look up at the sky and Oliver will lean against his back and hold him while they look for shooting stars.  Oliver’s eldest son is interested in that sort of thing and has told them about the Perseids and how it’s something to do with comet debris and so on.  Oliver nods and tries to look interested but he doesn’t really care.  As far as he’s concerned these have been put there to celebrate the small miracle that is his life.  His and Elio’s.

But that’s for later.  Oliver doesn’t know any of it yet, and even if he did he wouldn’t think about it.  He’s happy in the here and now, living the life that 24-year-old Oliver could never have imagined. 

And now Elio’s stirring.  Yawning.  He looks at Oliver.

“What’s wrong?  What are you thinking about?”

Oliver just looks back at him.

“What?” asks Elio.

“Nothing.”  Oliver smiles and bumps Elio’s shoulder with his own.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

It seems as though Elio’s done, but then- “It’s really nothing?”

“Really.  It’s nothing.  Well, everything.  I suppose.  You.  This.  All of it.  I’m just happy.”

It’s the truth.  This time, there’s no hint of the sadness he felt last time they made this trip.

There will always be something a little bittersweet about the two of them, because there’s no escaping all the wasted days, months, years.  All the time they could, perhaps, have had.  But they’ve talked about it, at length, and Oliver has come to terms with what he always knew- which is the fact that in a different time, and at 17 and 24, this thing between them couldn’t have worked much beyond what they had.  They’ve forgiven each other and themselves, both for the things they could have done differently and the things they couldn’t have changed.

The past is the past.  Oliver’s life is too precious to be wasted on regrets. 

Elio kisses him.  “Okay.”

And it is.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been reading along, and extra thanks to people who have brightened my days with your kudos, and even more extra special thanks to commenters! 
> 
> These Parallel Lives should hopefully update in a couple of weeks, though as usual no promises!


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